


b minor

by artifice



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Light Angst, M/M, musician au, short scribbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 07:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17597363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artifice/pseuds/artifice
Summary: Oliver shakily hands over the crumpled napkin. “I hope it’s okay if I love you forever, Connor.”





	1. past tense

**Author's Note:**

> i'm fairly certain i was listening to the a star is born soundtrack because there is NO way that first line is mine, lmao. anyhow, these are dated back a few months ago, and i figured i might as well post them here. enjoy!

  _too shy to say, but i hope you stay..._

 

* * *

 

 

“When we gave our vows at the altar, I just didn’t get to say everything that I wanted to say, so I wrote it down, and I brought it here,” Oliver shakily hands over the crumpled napkin. “I hope it’s okay if I love you forever, Connor.”

 

Connor glances down at the material in his hands, eyes widening. “I—?”

 

“Don’t. It’s okay. You can read it on your own later. I just hope you look at it someday, and maybe just—I don’t know. Remember me.” With wringing hands, Oliver exhales heavily, watching the cloud of air float up into the cold, night sky. Connor shifts in place, then shoves the napkin in his pocket.

 

“Ollie, you are literally the best thing that’s ever happened to—”

 

“—Were. I was.”

 

Oliver smiles a small smile; the kind that tugs minuscule lines into the corner of his mouth, the kind that says _hey, I’m sad, but seeing you healthy is the only thing I could really ask from you at this point._

 

And he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk the title man i'm just listening to chopin's waltzes and crying over an essay don't look over here


	2. you, though. you can call me connor.

“You sing _beautifully_ , did you know that?”

 

Oliver turns around, prompted by the steady hand on his shoulder. And, can he just say, _wow_. Before him (with a hand on his shoulder!) stands the most gorgeous man he’s ever laid eyes on.

 

“I. Thank you? Thank you,” he stutters, heat rising to his face. Gorgeous™ is looking at him with the prettiest, smoldering chocolate eyes and—

 

Holy shit. No way.

 

“What’s your name, stranger?”

 

What’s his name? What’s _his_ name? National celebrity _Ryan Walsh_ is asking him what his name is? Lead singer of _The_ Keating Five, _THE_ Ryan Walsh?

 

Oliver pastes his Server Smile on his face, praying it doesn’t twitch off his features and expose his internal screaming. “Hampton. Oliver. Ah—” a breathy chuckle escapes him. “Oliver Hampton.”

 

The brunet grins, teeth glinting under the purples and blues of the club lights. “Walsh. Ryan. Ryan Walsh. You, though—you can call me Connor.”

 

Connor ( _Connor_ , not his stupid frat boy stage name, holy fuck, Oliver is _wilding_ ) is right up in Oliver’s space, perfect button nose just inches away from his, and why is he thinking about the guy’s _nose,_ of all things—?

 

“Say, you wanna get out of here, Ollie? I could buy you a drink, get you a beer, whatever you’re feeling.”

 

Oliver lets out a breathy chuckle, nodding with hard, awkward jerks of his head. Oh God, he probably looks like an idiot right now. And isn’t that the smoothest thing he can possibly do? When the man before him Looks Like That?

 

Connor flashes his signature smile, and Oliver knows right then and there that he is _so_ fucked.

**Author's Note:**

> yell at/with me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/scmieita)


End file.
